


If I Was Born As A Blackthorn Tree

by pocketjoong



Series: Forest Of Lost Things [1]
Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Blood, Fear Play, Flower fae joong, Hongjoong is vain and predatory and everything else I want in a fairy, Humiliation, I mean there's a little plot, I'm not even Canadian it was just convenient okay, It turned out softer than I intended somehow, M/M, Maple tree sap as lube, Mildly Dubious Consent, Not much actual violence but there are descriptions, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Restraints, but like it's hot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:20:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22223209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pocketjoong/pseuds/pocketjoong
Summary: "If I was born as a blackthorn tree,I'd wanna be felled by you,Held by you,Fuel the pyre of your enemies."Hongjoong knows not to hunt beyond the meadow domain of the flower fae, but when an enticing human stumbles into his path like an offering, he just can't bring himself to resist. San is forbidden and strikingly beautiful and Hongjoong loves to play with his food.Unfortunately, his prey is not as obliging as it seems.
Relationships: Choi San/Kim Hongjoong
Series: Forest Of Lost Things [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1623976
Comments: 21
Kudos: 201





	If I Was Born As A Blackthorn Tree

**Author's Note:**

> Title from NFWMB - Hozier. 
> 
> I saw Hongjoong in a flower crown and I just *gestures weakly*  
> I can't believe my first work in this fandom is unmitigated filth, but hey. Hopefully someone gets a kick out of it.
> 
> If you're concerned about the dubcon, see the note at the end for clarification, but heads up it does spoil the fic a little!

Summer is coming to an end in the forest, bringing with it the resigned melancholy that Hongjoong has come to be familiar with in the late hours of the season. The pale, star-strewn twilights have started to give way to swift nightfall and the sun is lethargic in its rising, dragging its light up later and later with each passing day. The last of the strawberries were picked a week ago and Hongjoong already misses the sticky sweet juice on his fingers. But right now, he is trying to enjoy the afternoon light on his face, suffusing him with energy and warmth as the sounds and sensations of the forest pulse through his core. The grass beneath him carries the soft footfalls of fox kits playing nearby, their mother snapping idly at them as they tread on her tail. Further abound, a badger slumbers in his den below ground, a warren of rabbits not three feet apart from his lair. 

All these lives and thousands more are connected to Hongjoong through the earth and the air in a great symphony, spiralling and tangled with the deep magic of the forest. He hums a tune in harmony, and imagines the breeze whistles it back. And then there are the flowers, his worshippers, his masters, his lovers. There aren't many left now, the snowdrops and bluebells long lost to the scorching heat of midsummer and their later blooming cousins now past their best. Around him, he feels the tentative creeping of daisies and dandelions towards him, seeking the shelter of the living wreath in his hair. Usually, Hongjoong is vain, even for a flower fae, and he wouldn't even _think_ about letting these stringy grass flowers nest amongst his beautiful collection. He can't control what blooms on his skin, those being too easily influenced by emotion, but he can at least be particular with the crown along his skull. His soft blonde hair is curated carefully with sweet peas, irises, corn flowers and violets, accentuated by creamy pink stocks, ornamental dahlias and an occasional ivory swirl of gypsophila. Today, he misses the first days of summer, when he had oceans of flowers vying for his attention, and he begrudgingly allows the daisies to creep into his collection, their roots hooking gently into his skin. It doesn't matter anyway. Soon, the blooms in his hair and on his skin will wither and fade, his wings will grow dull, and he will have to retreat to his home in the roots of the ancient beech tree until the spring awakens him once more. Hongjoong _hates_ the winter rest, hates dreaming of death and emptiness and hunger as the wildlife around him is sharpened and tested by the harsh forest. Hates the shock of false awakening when he accidentally touches the mind of a mouse before its skull is crushed in a snowy owl's talons. Hates the real awakening in spring, when the ground is still tinged with biting frost and he can only find mushrooms and bitter hawthorn to eat. 

Thinking of the winter rest has soured his mood and Hongjoong restlessly pushes himself up to fly, drifting lazily above the ground as he meanders from the meadow back into the sun-dappled trees. Maybe there are some strawberries he's missed. As he floats over a still pool, he shamelessly pauses to admire his wings again. They reformed so beautifully this year, a creamy pearl colour that glittered an iridescent pink when he fluttered them. They were fine enough that they were almost transparent, like lunaria leaves, though of course they were sinewy and tough, with edges sharp enough to sever bone. Any witch foolish enough to attempt to trap a fairy usually had a missing limb to show for it. Hongjoong had taken a few himself, over the years, and never even suffered a scar. Preening, Hongjoong flicks his wings this way and that, ensuring no dark spots have appeared with the cooler morning. His muscles shift beneath his lovely spider silk tunic and he thinks to put little bells on it next year, so that he makes music when he flies. Satisfied with his findings, he starts to float over to his favourite berry bushes, and freezes. 

Kneeling at the edge of the pool, there is a man. He is staring at Hongjoong with a strange expression - some kind of surprise, maybe - and Hongjoong stares back in kind. Fear and excitement thrum through his chest as he seeks out the man with his magic, feeling to see if this is simply a plain-coloured naiad or an unusually large brownie. No magic echoes back to him but for the ever-present forest, and adrenaline kicks through Hongjoong's veins like electricity. It's a _human_. He's handsome too, all sultry eyes and plush lips, his dark hair falling messily to frame his face. He's wearing simple green clothes, with short sleeves that show off his lean arms and the dirt streaked up from fingernails to wrist. A herbalist, perhaps? He looks pretty and a little rough around the edges and Hongjoong wants to devour him. He deserves it, he reasons. He hardly ever sees humans in his flower fields, and most of them are boring children who need to be sent off to their worried mothers with a gentle whisper (or if he's feeling mean, a swarm of bees). It's been centuries since he lured a man like this, and the temptation is like a summer storm, wild and sudden, completely impossible to resist. Hongjoong makes his decision, and baits his trap. 

He waves shyly to the human, still hanging back over the water as though he were the one that should be afraid. The human waves back, just as tentative. This prey is skittish, and Hongjoong will have to tread carefully.

"Hello, human?" he calls softly.

"Afternoon," the man replies politely, seeming bewildered by his own response. He shakes his head as if to clear it, and Hongjoong pretends to flinch back at the movement, curling his wings protectively over his head. 

"It's okay," the man says quickly, "I won't hurt you. Don't want to upset anything in the forest." 

"Can I come off the water now? I'm tired of floating," Hongjoong whines, letting his wings droop pitifully.

"I… Yes, I suppose," the man says. "I won't do you any harm so long as you don't harm me.

"Promise?" Hongjoong asks sweetly, letting his features fall placid and naive. The man nods hesitantly, and Hongjoong drifts over to settle his feet on the moss-covered roots of an oak tree, half hiding behind one of the lower hanging boughs. He smiles coyly at the human, letting his wings hang elegantly behind him.

"Are you new?" he asks quietly. He thinks of innocence and sweetness, trying not to let the thrill of stabbing through flesh with a sharp stone show on his face. 

The human smiles back, somewhat awkwardly. When he stands, he's only a head taller than Hongjoong - a bit shorter than Hongjoong expected from a man.

"Not exactly," he says.

Hongjoong hides his face behind his dainty hands, blinking slowly like a cat.

"You're pretty," he says shyly.

The human smiles genuinely this time, a laugh tugging at his words. He has a peculiar way of talking, with his lips over his teeth. Hongjoong wonders if he's broken one.

"Thank you. You're very pretty too."

Oh. _Oh_. The praise burns hot in Hongjoong's gut and he decides that this time, he'll have to play with his food. He just hopes that the human sees his flushed cheeks as innocent shyness and that his loose, flowing clothes cover everything else. 

"Oh- Ah- you really think so?" He can't resist fishing for more.

"Of course! You're lovely," the human reassures. Hongjoong is almost embarrassed to feel tiny buds flowering on his face as emotion spills out of him. He reaches up to brush them away and he sees that this time he's bloomed perfect little yellow flowers, each only the size of his pinky fingernail. Narcissi. Has it really been that long since someone gave him a compliment? He would have to complain to Yeosang.

"You're so _nice_ ," he enthuses to the human. "Are you looking for berries? I'll show you my favourite bushes if you want." 

The human laughs quietly.

"No, little one. I'm not looking for berries. I'm not staying here for long."

"Then… are you lost?" Hongjoong asks, worrying his lower lip with his fingertip. The human's eyes track the movement with interest and want rushes into Hongjoong's lungs until they feel heavy and full.

"I'm not sure I should answer that," the human says carefully. Hongjoong pouts. 

"Well that's stupid. I know all the paths, so if you're lost, I can help you." 

_Hook._

"Pretty forest things like you don't give help for free," the man accuses.

"Then what will you give me if I show you the way?" Hongjoong asks, exasperated. 

"Ha! I'm sure you'll ask for something more than I want to give. I like my heart and liver where they are, thank you."

The man shakes his head and Hongjoong's mouth falls open as he sees the little pieces of metal glinting in his ears. They're not nasty iron, he'd be able to smell that. No, they must be something precious, maybe silver or even _gold._ He's almost giddy with how much he wants them, imagining how pretty they would look in his own pointed ears. The man has noticed his staring and a crafty look comes onto his face.

"Ah, does the pretty fairy want these pretty things?" he asks, lifting his hair so that Hongjoong can see them properly. They _are_ gold, gleaming and studded with little red jewels, and Hongjoong needs them _now._

"Yes please," he pleads. "I'll show you the edge of the forest if you give me those." 

"Swear you'll do me no harm," the man insists. 

"I swear by my blood that I'll show you to the edge of the forest and I won't harm you while we travel together, as long as you give me the pretty things," Hongjoong recites obediently. The man relaxes. 

_Line._

I'm Hongjoong, but you can call me Joong, or Joongie, or pretty fairy," Hongjoong says shamelessly, moseying up to the human as though their deal has made them best friends. "What's your name?" He leans in close under the pretence of inspecting the jewellery and feels the man's heart pick up. The sign of attraction makes Hongjoong fizz with pride and he almost misses the man's name in his excitement.

"I'm San." 

_Sinker._

The power of his name settles warmly under Hongjoong's skin and he sighs as he reaches up to his crown of flowers, delicately tracing velvet petals until his fingertips are stained with violet powder. 

"San, you need to learn more about bargaining with the fae," he advises, then smears the fairy dust across San's confused face. The human breathes in, coughs until he's out of breath, and then catches his breath enough to smile at Hongjoong, eyes soft and needy. Hongjoong coos delightedly, floating up to cup San's face in his hands as he turns the human this way and that, peppering kisses to his nose and cheeks. 

"You're so handsome," he comments, "and all mine to love me until we get to the edge of the forest. Are you happy to be mine?" he demands of San.

"I'm not sure if I'm happy…" San says groggily. Hongjoong frowns. Of course, too hard a question. He'd forgotten how much free will humans retain, even with fairy dust muddying their control. 

"Then do you think I'm beautiful?" He asks patiently.

"Yes," San replies, without hesitation. Hongjoong is thrilled.

"Am I the most beautiful thing you've ever seen?" he asks, holding his breath for the answer.

"Of course," San says again. Hongjoong is almost dizzy with the praise, the weight of San's desire enveloping him like a fog. 

"Thank you, San," he says, taking the human's hand. "Let's start walking, or we won't get to the forest's edge before dark."

"You promised to take me," San struggles to say, brow creased with the effort of remembering. 

"And I am, sweet San, don't fret," Hongjoong soothes, leaning in almost close enough to kiss him. San's breath catches and Hongjoong giggles, pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose instead. "Come on, tell me about your pretty gold things."

San obediently tells him about the jewellery, calling them 'earrings', a word that Hongjoong likes very much. At first, he's dismayed to find out that there are real holes poked in San's ears that the earrings sit in, but he thinks they would be easy enough to replicate. He can get Wooyoung to do it, the next time the wind spirit has the inclination to take a physical form. Or he could ask Jongho, naturally helpful as he is, though Hongjoong doesn't know if he trusts the hob's work-roughened hands with his delicate ears. By the time they've crossed Hongjoong's flower fields, he's become bored of gold and rubies and he tells San all about the forest instead. It's nice to have someone who will just listen to him chatter instead of getting distracted by storm clouds like Wooyoung or turning back into a tree like Mingi. Hongjoong tells him about the other forest entities and how the kelpies (well, Yeosang) are mean to him and how the other flower fae think he's lazy but he's _not._ He explains how he listens to the symphonies in the forest, how he makes his own songs to sing back when only the forest is listening. San only interrupts to tell him he's clever and the praise has Hongjoong flushing and stumbling again, suddenly full of that hot tension he'd felt before. But San's comment was half to himself, a reminder not to trust the fae, and that won't do at all. He blows another pinch of fairy dust into San's face, licking the excess off the human's collarbones with his quick, pink tongue. The stifled sound it draws from San's throat is enough to have Hongjoong tingling down to his toes. Then he sweetly begs San to carry him, and hooks his chin over San's shoulder to whisper questions in his ear. 

"San?" 

"Yes, Joongie?" 

"What did you think, when you first saw me?" 

"I thought you were lovely," San says, stilted. He sounds like shame wrapped up in adoration and it's pure music. Hongjoong wraps his legs a little more tightly around San's chest. 

"It's alright, you should tell me," he coaxes, "I want to hear it." 

San's jaw tightens and Hongjoong feels him fight the fairy dust a little, trying to keep the secret. Hongjoong kisses him feather-light on the side of his throat and the resistance melts away. 

"I wanted to ruin you," San groans, "Like making the first print in fresh snow. I wanted to make a mess of you until you begged for me." 

"O-oh," Hongjoong stutters. His wings quiver without his permission. His body winds up like a spring. "You want me that much?" 

"Yes," San replies simply. He can surely feel how Hongjoong's body has reacted to the admission, but he obediently treads on with no attempt to touch or tease. 

Only the terms of their contract prevent Hongjoong from sinking his teeth into San's perfect shoulder. 

"You'll have me," he sings into the human's skin, "I'll let you ruin me for a while, if you don't run away. You don't want to run away, do you, Sannie?" 

San's mouth pulls down into a frown, as though the suggestion offends him.

"Not at all." 

Hongjoong wriggles from San's arms as they approach the east edge of the forest, barely managing to contain his own laughter as he leads them closer. He can't _wait_ to see when the human realises what he's done, when he realises he needs to make another bargain. He'll be so addled with dust that he won't even think to reject Hongjoong's offer. He's going to let San do whatever he wants to him, short of serious harm, and then Hongjoong gets to have San, without any such conditions. He hasn't decided how he'll do it, yet, whether he wants to dash San's skull against the sharp rocks or slit his throat with the tip of his wing or maybe strangle him with his own silly leather belt. The ideas make his hands shake with excitement and he darts ahead into the open, beckoning San through with a joyful call. This is one edge of the forest, of course, but it is not very useful to a human. At the edge of the trees, the Bracken River flows wide, its currents as lethal as the creatures below the surface. And even if a human made it to the far bank, beyond it lies the plains, with their wolves and nomadic clans, and the sheer, unforgiving slopes of the mountains. 

"Well, this is the edge of the forest," Hongjoong announces gleefully. He's already laughing as he turns around, dying to see the confused dismay written across San's face. But his laugh withers in his throat. San is standing in the trees, his eyes clear as stars, a dangerous smile on his face. He's shirtless now, and Hongjoong notices patches of pale green mottling his tanned torso. He still wears the green trousers, but they've moulded to his body more closely, seeming more moss than cotton, and his once dirty hands are pristine. His hair is parted around small, wicked antlers above his ears and his teeth, now bared, boast sharp and pointed canines worthy of a beast.

"Wha-?" Hongjoong tries to ask. Dimly, in the back of his mind, he is aware that he is in trouble. 

"Did you really take me for a hapless human?" San asks, tilting his head.

 _Oh no._

"I didn't- I _checked_ ," Hongjoong protests helplessly, "I looked for magic and I only felt…" He'd felt nothing but the familiar echo of the forest. 

The realization hits him at the same time the forest's magic surges, and Hongjoong's knees slam into the sharp stones of the riverbed before he can even think to resist. Cold water flows up from the shallows, engulfing him to the waist, then the river weeds creep up, winding around his wrists, his chest, pinning his shimmering wings to his back. The plants force their way into his skin more roughly than any flower, more painful than even the sharpest rose thorns. It hurts badly, but Hongjoong doesn't cry out, too focussed on babbling apologies to the god of the forest. 

"I'm so sorry, master, please forgive my mistake, my king, I didn't mean any offence to you, I swear, master, I-" 

A wet slide of lakeweed tightens around his throat and he stops speaking as it threatens to cut off his air supply. Fear thrums in his belly like a second heartbeat and Hongjoong gasps in hurried, shallow breaths. 

"Silly fairy," the forest god says, stalking forward to inspect him. His eyes are pitch dark, but they burn with the intensity of a brushfire and Hongjoong imagines them leaving a trail of heat on his skin. The close proximity makes his heart stutter and he curses the part of himself that craves the king's hunger like he'd longed for San's adoration. The king tilts Hongjoong's jaw back with gentle fingers, letting his thumb trace over the fairy's lower lip. He tugs the delicate skin and Hongjoong obediently opens his mouth, tears springing in the corners of his eyes when the king slides his thumb roughly along his tongue, deep enough to make him choke. 

"Good boy." 

Hongjoong knows that shouldn't send heat spinning through his body, not when he's in danger of being ripped apart, but he can't help the full-body shiver that goes through him at praise from a _god._ The king notices and laughs.

"So desperate for attention," he taunts, "I wouldn't need fairy dust to make you pliant, would I? You worked yourself up into a mess just thinking of having a human play with you. What a greedy little thing you are, hmm? I give you all the prettiest flowers and the sweetest strawberries, I give you fae companions and free reign of my forest. But that's not enough for you, is it?"

"M'so - sorry, master," Hongjoong slurs around the thumb in his mouth. 

"Stop groveling. I preferred it when you called me by my name." 

"Sorry, San," he corrects himself, flushing as he feels drool escape the corner of his mouth. 

"Messy," San accuses, smearing it over Hongjoong's chin as he withdraws his thumb. "What am I going to do with you, hmm? Well, that's not the real question. What were you going to do with me, when you thought I was human?" His eyes are alight with cunning and Hongjoong feels certain he already knows the answer. 

"... offer another bargain," Hongjoong replies tentatively, ashamed to admit his full plan. The bindings on his chest tighten painfully, leaving him breathless.

"Don't test my patience," San advises, a little cold.

"I was going to trade myself," Hongjoong admits quickly, cheeks burning, "I would have let you do what you wanted, and then eaten you." 

San laughs again, trailing his elegant finger along the loose collar of Hongjoong's tunic. Hongjoong tries not to react to the touch.

"Are you really so deprived that you'd let any stray human have you?" San taunts. Humiliation twists in Hongjoong's gut and it's almost as thrilling as the praise. "Haven't the other fae kept you busy enough? I hadn't realised my subjects were so needy. Maybe I should pay closer attention to them," San purrs, leaning down to hook his fingers under the sinewy stems that cage Hongjoong's chest. He hoists the fairy up so that their faces are level, moving as though he weighs nothing despite the heaviness of his sodden clothes and the firm grip of the river plants. The hold causes painful pressure on Hongjoong's bones and muscles, his wing joints protesting at the unnatural angle they're pushed into as the vines pull and stretch. Roots tear from his skin without warning and he feels warm trickles of blood join the murky water trailing back into the river. 

San licks some of the blood from his temple, then traces his tongue down to rest over the fairy's pulse point. Hongjoong squeezes his eyes shut, waiting for his throat to be torn out, but San presses a kiss there instead, mimicking Hongjoong's earlier actions.

"You and I are very alike in some ways," he whispers, "Like you, I cannot tell a direct lie." 

Hongjoong is so overcome with fear and cold that it takes him a few moments to understand the significance of the words. When it hits him, he squirms, torn between terror and a myriad of _other_ emotions.

"When you - you said you w-wanted…" he breathes, wide eyed. 

"You're so very pretty, fairy. Would you like to perform a favour for your king? Perhaps you can convince me to forgive you for trying to poach prey from my woodlands," San suggests, "Would you like that?" 

Hongjoong shudders, every rational thought spiralling out of reach as he imagines how he could please San, could earn back his favour. 

"Please," he whispers. In less than a second, the water and vines retreat from his body and he weakly manages to float enough to stop himself from falling. San plucks him right out the air like a dandelion seed, hooking one sturdy arm under Hongjoong's thighs and encouraging the fairy to hold on with his arms around the king's neck. Hongjoong pulls in close, already desperate, gasping at the unnatural warmth of San's skin seeping through his wet clothes. San smells like vetiver and rain, and magic envelopes the fairy like a cloud of static energy, like every time he's ever listened to the forest symphony all rolled in to one. He's dazed by the intensity of it, head spinning as he tries to take it all in. San shifts beneath him - impatient, perhaps - and Hongjoong struggles to refocus on worshipping the being in front of him, trailing kisses over the front of San's chest and up his throat. He doesn't dare leave any marks. He's vaguely aware of San moving from the riverbank back into the woods, but it isn't until San presses him back against the bark of a great maple tree that he notices they've come to a little grove, one usually frequented by fauns and goblin folk meeting to dance or trade. Now, with the sunset taking a firm grip of the sky, the grove is empty of everything but buttery yellow light and the rich green of the trees around them.

Hongjoong isn't spared any time to map his surroundings before San kisses him, and Hongjoong has never been kissed so fiercely in his life. San's lips are hot and soft against his own and there's an intoxicating sense of ownership as the king runs his tongue teasingly along the roof of the fairy's mouth. Hongjoong melts into it, lets him explore and spread the taste of honey and spruce tips over his tongue. He stays as pliant as a ragdoll, barely catching enough breath to try and kiss back, but he squirms when San's sharp teeth nip his lower lip, just shy of drawing blood. San pulls back, that knowing smirk appearing once more, and he uses his free hand to stroke roughly over Hongjoong's chest until he reaches the fairy's lower stomach. 

"What's this?" he asks, false innocence dripping from his words. Hongjoong flushes and covers his face with his hands, knowing what he will see if he looks. The water makes his clothing cling to him like a second skin and he can feel the throbbing between his legs, can feel the drag of wet silk against his cock where it strains against the fabric. 

"Look at yourself," San commands, and the fear overrides the embarrassment. Hongjoong moves his hands to grip the branches above him as he looks down. Sure enough, his erection is clearly visible through the silk, sensitive and twitching with every tiny movement San's hand makes towards it. More intriguing, though, is the shape Hongjoong can see through the rich green of San's clothes. His mouth slips open without his permission, but before he can speak, a startled sound escapes his throat when San suddenly leans in and slices a long tear in Hongjoong's tunic with his teeth. The king rips the shirt off the rest of the way, then gracelessly tugs the fairy's trousers down past his ankles, leaving him bare and defenceless in the cooling air. San trails his finger lightly down either side of Hongjoong's cock, ghosting over the soft skin of his inner thighs so that he can watch Hongjoong's muscles jump in anticipation.

"You're _so_ sensitive, fairy," the king's tone is one of quiet awe. Then he tilts his head, as if considering, and harshly presses the tip of his finger into the precum pooling at the head of Hongjoong's cock. The fairy keens, hips twitching as he struggles to decide whether to pull away or chase the sensation, and San hushes him, relenting the punishment momentarily as he reaches up to collect a handful of fairy dust from Hongjoong's flowers. There's a brief surge of magic again and San presses his hand to the bark of the tree by Hongjoong's head, followed by an odd sound like wood twisting against wood. San's hand comes away glistening with clear, sweet sap, still streaked in lavender dust, and Hongjoong desperately wants the king's fingers in his mouth. Instead, San encircles his cock with his slick fingers and Hongjoong throws his head back, whole body convulsing at the hot, immediate pleasure of fucking into someone else's fist. San doesn't make it easy, alternating his grip between teasingly useless and just this side of too tight. He makes Hongjoong struggle for it, matching the desperate movement of his hips for a few thrusts before changing his tempo and forcing Hongjoong to focus enough to readjust to his rhythm. Hongjoong is already half-gone, whining through shallow, staccato breaths as San works him up to an orgasm. And yet, the king is apparently unsatisfied with his work. He evens out his strokes, drawing back a little so that he can look at Hongjoong's face. 

"How are you feeling, sweet one? Are you enjoying yourself?" 

"Yes, so good," Hongjoong gasps, trying not to chase San's hand too eagerly, "It feels good."

"What feels good?" San prompts, wicked smile in place. Hongjoong pinks, embarrassed to say it so plainly. 

" _It's alright, you should tell me,_ " San mimics Hongjoong's earlier words, "I want to hear it."

Hongjoong shakes his head, moving his hands down to cover his face again. Before he can really move, the branches he was using for support groan and creak, shifting unnaturally to catch his wrists and hold them above his head. He jolts, looking up in panic as the tree binds him in place, a whimper catching in his throat as he tugs fruitlessly at the solid wood. San is still holding his weight up against the tree, so it's not painful, but the reminder of the power he's playing with sends adrenaline crackling through his body. He can't help but summon memories of blood soaking into frosty earth and the sharp, cold hunger of the forest in winter. 

If he notices Hongjoong's fear, San pays it no attention and just hushes him, leaning in close to mouth up the side of his throat. His hand is still moving steadily on Hongjoong's cock and the crossed signals between pleasure and fear are sending Hongjoong's mind into a spiralling free fall. 

"Come on, pretty thing, you don't get to be shy," San says, breath hot and damp against Hongjoong's ear. "You had me tell you what I wanted. Now it's your turn. Tell me what feels good," he commands. 

Hingjoong draws in a shaky breath.

"Your h-hand," he says, face burning. San hums, then lets go of his cock. Hongjoong fights back a whine as wet fingertips stroke along his thighs, his stomach, the curve of his hip.

"Like this?" San asks, kissing along Hongjoong's jaw. 

"No," the fairy protests weakly, trying to capture San's mouth for a kiss. San hovers just out of his reach. 

"Look me in the eye and tell me, then," San orders. Hongjoong wets his lips, squirming in place as he fights the humiliation. He can feel flowers blooming high on his cheekbones and he vaguely wonders what species are betraying his emotions now.

"Your hand f-feels good touching - touching m-my cock," he manages to force out, San's hungry eyes spurring him on, "please touch my cock, plea - nngh!"

"There we go, Joongie, all you had to do was ask," San cooes, sweet and mean as he works Hongjoong's cock twice as fast and tight. Hongjoong can't even formulate a response, his wings scraping against the bark of the tree as he fucks up into San's hand, his orgasm building almost painfully quickly at the slick, firm stimulation after such an agonising build up. The fear seems to have sharpened every sensation and San's mouth brushing feather-light over his own makes him _ache_ , surging forward to chase the kiss, moaning shamelessly when the king's tongue slides against his own. His hips start to falter in their rhythm as the wave rises up inside him and he's more just gasping against San's mouth than actually kissing, and every muscle in his body is winding tight, his stomach clenching pleasantly as the wave towers up and - 

\- stops.

Hongjoong wails, tears welling up as he opens his eyes to stare accusingly at San, tremors running through him as his body reels from the shock of having every ounce of pleasure withdrawn without so much as a word. 

San stares back, unsympathetic.

"Aw, you wanted me to just give it to you? You're so spoilt that you think I should just pleasure you, without getting anything in return?"

"No," Hongjoong protests, still trembling. "No, San, w-wanna be good for you," he says. San softens, leaning in to nuzzle Hongjoong's cheek. A few flower petals are knocked loose and Hongjoong feels them falling from his face like tears. More have sprung up on his collarbones and knuckles, a wild mix of emotions spelled out in miniature blossoms about his skin.

"Aw, I know you do," San murmurs, gently kissing Hongjoong's cheeks. It feels sweet and romantic, until he ruins it with his next words. "Unfortunately for you, what makes me feel good is making you so desperate that you cry." 

Then his hand is back on Hongjoong's cock, the pace so unforgiving that it has Hongjoong tugging at the branches holding his wrists, trying to curl up over himself to escape San's hand. His wings spasm behind him and their sharp edges catch on the tree trunk, carving gouges into the ancient wood as he tries to catch his breath.

San huffs a laugh into the skin below his ear, and then kisses it, biting down gently as he works his tongue over the area to leave a bruise. San's teeth are sharp and they sting perfectly, a heady reminder of how much danger he's flirting with right now. Hongjoong can't help but whimper desperately, the sound catching in his throat as he approaches the edge again, embarrassingly soon.

"A-ah! Too much m'so close please, master, please, San, I'm gonna - no-no-no, _please_ ," he whines as San withdraws his hand again, leaving him writhing in the air, fruitlessly seeking the friction that would knock him over the edge. San soothes him with sweet kisses and murmured words of praise, waiting for him to come down before he slicks up his hand and starts all over again. The cycle repeats. Hongjoong loses track of time, loses track of how many times he's been edged, loses track of everything but San. He's boneless, now, relying solely on the branches and San's unyielding strength to keep him upright, his wings hanging uselessly behind his back. His shoulders ache and his lower back is scratched and bruised where the bark has scraped against it, but the pain is almost as satisfying as the pleasure. He can feel petals clinging to his skin, sticking where his tears have made his cheeks wet, and his hair is unruly and damp with sweat. He must look a mess, but that's what San likes. He wants to be what San likes. 

"Just look at you," the king marvels, smoothing his thumb through the mess of dried blood, pollen and tears on Hongjoong's face. His voice is low and rough and Hongjoong burns with the knowledge that he's affecting San in this way. "You look so gorgeous when you're ruined for me." 

Everything is slow and blurry in Hongjoong's mind, but the praise still registers and euphoria distantly rises up in his chest like a bubble through honey. 

"San," he whispers. 

"Hmm?"

"San, please," he pleads, voice breaking. He's not sure what he's asking for, but he knows he _wants_. 

"Does my greedy little fairy need more?" San asks, sounding disappointed. "I've played with you, given you attention, but you're still not satisfied?" 

Shame flutters in Hongjoong's chest, but he shakes his head anyway, weakly trying to squirm closer to San's body. 

"I'll do anything," he offers, pleading, "A-anything you want, just need more, please." 

San closes his eyes, briefly, and when he opens them they seem even darker than before. He's so impossibly beautiful. 

"Anything I want, is that right?" he asks, his lips a scant inch from Hongjoong's own.

"Anything," Hongjoong promises, straining to close the distance. 

"Will you belong to me, Hongjoong? Will you make yourself mine?" San asks, a little breathless.

Hongjoong smiles dreamily.

"M'already yours," he mumbles, "I've been yours forever."

He's too far into this headspace to try and explain the music, to make San understand how he feels the forest magic and he's made it his home. He wishes he could put his feelings into poetry, could wrap them up in melody, but all he can think of is that if San wanted his heart, he would willingly claw it from his own chest. Despite his silence, he thinks San might understand anyway, because the god groans and leans in to kiss Hongjoong with such bone-deep passion that the fairy knows he'll be ruined for anyone else. He tries to kiss back, too overwhelmed to be anything other than messy, but San accepts it willingly, takes control of the kiss and leaves him breathless. He can't help the quiet sob into San's mouth when the branches release his wrists, his shoulders stiff from the prolonged restraint. 

"Shhh, fairy, you're doing so well," San croons, pressing sweet kisses to the corners of his mouth. The praise is like a balm on Hongjoong's mind and he clings to San with aching arms, trying to burrow as close as he can. San holds Hongjoong tightly to his chest as he moves away from the tree, and then Hongjoong finds himself being laid down in the long grass, his muscles flooded with relief at the comfortable position. But then San moves back and he whines at the loss of heat, noticing for the first time that the sun has finished setting and the sky above him is littered with constellations. San is only gone for a moment as he rids Hongjoong of the last of his ruined tunic and removes his own strange clothing, the moss seeming to drop away from his form into nothingness. Kneeling naked against the infinite backdrop of sky and stars, he should be untouchable and otherworldly, a frightening being beyond Hongjoong's comprehension. His antlers stand cruel and sharp and his eyes are wild and older than time. But then he touches Hongjoong's thigh, grips it hard as if to ground himself, and Hongjoong hears the comforting magic of the forest, feels San's genuine love for this place and his fierce hunger for intimacy and release. San closes the distance between them, and Hongjoong immediately adores the weight of him, the feeling of skin against skin as San lazily ruts against his hip. His cock is warm and heavy and any clarity Hongjoong found in their brief interlude is immediately overtaken by his desire to please San and by his own urgent arousal. He runs a tentative hand down San's spine, then dares to pull the king down by the waist so that he can grind up hard and make them both moan. San indulges his impatience, hiking Hongjoong's leg up and shifting his hips so that he can press the tip of a thumb against his rim. Hongjoong keens, every thought consumed by the sudden, feverish need to have San inside him, _now._

"Please-please-please-please _,"_ he begs, words slurred and breathy. San looks down at him with something like adoration, and it makes the first slick intrusion of his finger even sweeter. Hongjoong arches as much as he's able to, his breath slightly constricted by San's weight on his chest, and he rocks back down against San's finger, urging for more. The king ignores his frantic movements, keeping a slow, easy pace as Hongjoong starts to relax around him. He continues until there's barely a stretch, until Hongjoong is squirming insolently beneath him. 

"San, please, I'm ready, I need - a-ah!" his whining is cut off as San slides a second finger in deep, giving him no time to adjust. It stings, and the pain goes straight to Hongjoong's cock.

"Greedy," San hisses against Hongjoong's collarbone, "I try to be nice for you, and all I get is ingratitude." 

"M'sorry," Hongjoong hiccups, pathetic as he throws his head back and struggles to keep his grip on San's back. 

San sighs, feigning charitable patience. 

"I'll forgive it only because I know you can't help it, hmm? So pitiful and needy, always asking for more than you can handle. Lucky I came along before you spread your legs for someone who wouldn't know how to use you." 

His words have scarlet flowers springing up from Hongjoong's skin as the fairy chokes on nothing, overwhelmed by the smooth drag of fingertips against his walls. By the time San has worked up to four fingers, Hongjoong is glassy-eyed and writhing, tears streaking down from his eyes to his temples as he begs for more, begs for less, begs for anything. San has shifted to a kneeling position, with the fairy half in his lap and his free hand wrapped around his own cock.

"S'so much, so close," Hongjoong gurgles, "Please don't stop - I - I can't -" 

"Just one more, Joongie," San soothes, "Just one more and then you can come around my cock." When he staves off Hongjoong's orgasm with his fingers tight around the base of his length, Hongjoong doesn't even have the energy to protest. He feels hollow when San removes his fingers, so far away from his body that he can't control the ragged sound he makes at the emptiness. He almost cries in relief when the blunt, thick head of San's cock nudges between his cheeks instead. They both moan as it catches on his rim, and then San is sliding home in one interrupted, steady thrust. He feels huge, despite the extended preparation, and Hongjoong arches his back, hole fluttering around San's cock as he tries to adjust to the stretch. His wings spasm uselessly where they're trapped against the grass and he notices after a moment that the wounded, breathy sounds he can hear are coming from his own throat. San doesn't ask if he's ready, just starts fucking him with easy, unrestrained movements, using one hand to support his lower back and the other to pull his hips back to meet his movements. Hongjoong clutches at the ground for support, crushing handfuls of grass and dandelions in his fists as his core aches with pleasure. He feels helpless, a useless object for San's gratification, and the concept makes him feel lightheaded, drawing a high, airy cry from his throat. He lets go of the grass to shove two fingers into his own mouth, sucking obscenely and wishing they were someone else's. San groans at the sight, his hips stuttering, and then he rocks forward and pulls Hongjoong up fully into his lap. The fairy nearly chokes on his own tongue as it adjusts the angle almost perfectly, San's cock deep and pulsing against his prostate. San holds him steady by his waist, fucking up roughly as Hongjoong's head falls back and his fingers slip from his mouth, adding to the mess of drool he can feel around his lips. He's so, so close, and the only thing he wants more than an orgasm is to feel San's come inside him. He knows how to make that happen, if he just concentrates. His eyelashes are stuck together with tears and he has to blink a few times to open his eyes enough to see. San's hair is sweat-damp and messy, tangled around his antlers like an unholy halo and his eyes are closed, brow furrowed in concentration as he chases his release. He looks imperfect and tangible and Hongjoong wants to see the face he makes when he comes. 

"San," he pants, holding eye contact when the king looks up at him. "Make me yours." 

San _growls_ , taking one hand from Hongjoong's hips so that he can get a handful of blonde hair, tugging Hongjoong's head back to expose his throat. His thrusts are growing unsteady and frantic and his cock throbs inside Hongjoong, an easy tell. 

"I'll be all yours," Hongjoong chokes out, and then San's teeth slice a fine line at the base of his throat and the pain tips him over the edge. It's like stepping off a waterfall, with a sudden build of anticipation as he falls, followed by the bruising force of pleasure washing over him, pulling him under and wringing him out. He's half aware of San coming apart beneath him, rhythm stuttering in sync with the raw sounds escaping his perfect mouth. But for a moment, nothing exists except the all-consuming euphoria that whites out his brain and leaves him boneless and trembling. San seems to have fared no better beneath him, his muscles arms shaking where they loop around Hongjoong's waist. 

They grind together tiredly for a few moments, both riding the aftershocks as San laves his tongue over the shallow wound on Hongjoong's skin. Then he trails his lips up and pulls him in for a soft kiss, their lips moving so sweetly and gently that it makes something ache in Hongjoong's chest. 

"You're so good," the king whispers to him, "You did so well, my pretty fairy." 

San's earlier cruelty seems to have melted away and he holds Hongjoong like he's something precious as he pulls out and lifts the fairy up against his chest. Hongjoong remains silent as he's carried back to the river bank, half afraid of breaking whatever spell this is and being ripped to pieces anyway. San wades in just deep enough that he can sit down with Hongjoong in his lap and submerge their legs in water. Hongjoong hissed at the sudden cold and San freezes, his deep eyes wide and unsure. 

"I'm… sorry?" he says uncertainly. 

"It's… It's alright," Hongjoong croaks back, leaning down to splash water over his face and neck. He washes himself whilst San watches, shielding him from the strong currents. It's a relief to be clean again, even though the river is bitingly cold and his lower back is starting to ache something terrible. He's too wrung out to even feel afraid. San tentatively runs his finger over the half-scabbed wound on Hongjoong's skin.

"I haven't… been close to anyone for a while," San says quietly. "Being a god is a lot to think about. I haven't thought about being a person for a long time."

"Oh…" Hongjoong replies, not sure what else to say. His wings have started to go numb. "Are we… are you going to hurt me?" he can't help but ask. San pulls him closer, scowling at the question.

"You're mine," he says, as if that explains anything. Hongjoong's confusion must show on his face. "I hear you too, singing back to me. You're mine, Hongjoong. I was never _really_ going to hurt you."

Hongjoong assumes that the king doesn't consider his current aches and pains to constitute hurt. 

"Then why threaten me?" 

The king smiles, and Hongjoong sees a flicker of the cruel mischief there once more.

"Fear makes everything more intense, doesn't it? I could hear your blood rushing, making you dizzy and pliant for me. And besides… " his gaze is distant. "It feels good to scare you. It feels good to make you feel things, to make you want things. Sometimes I forget… what it's like." The stars are reflected in his inky eyes and it looks as though his thoughts are high up among them. 

There are so many questions Hongjoong wants to ask, so much curiosity burning in his mind, but he senses this is not the time for it. Instead, he leans in to kiss San, the king startling briefly before he returns the favour. 

"You're shivering," he breaks the kiss to remark, stroking his warm hand down Hongjoong's side. "Flower fairies shouldn't get too cold." 

With that, he moves them back to shore, then presses two fingers of his right hand to the ground and takes Hongjoong's fingers in his left. Fine, mossy lichen manifests on Hongjoong's wrist, then grows and weaves itself into a woolly-looking tunic, growing neatly around his wing joints, down past his hips, and thickening until it affords him some protection from the cold. In the dark, it probably looks like he's a floating moss sculpture. San picks him up again and Hongjoong asks him to go further upstream, to the spare nest he has set up for when he stays too late talking to Yeosang and has to take shelter near the river. The fireflies are out in force and their little sparks drift lazily back and forth, making the daunting shadows of the forest seem welcoming and warm. As they approach the weeping willow, San lets him down and he floats through the curtain of leaves, tugging San after him by the wrist. Hongjoong lays a hand against the trunk of the willow, seeking access, reminding the tree what it owes him. It reluctantly shifts its roots, scattering soil and leaves everywhere as it reveals a dry, sandy hollow at the base of the tree. Hongjoong folds his wings away and steps down, but looks back when San doesn't follow. And Hongjoong shouldn't want him to. He should let the king walk away. He should count his lucky stars and hope to never cross paths again.

"Stay with me?" he asks instead. 

San shifts uneasily.

"I can't be tethered or bound," he says. "I am the forest." 

"I know that," Hongjoong tells him, and it's true. "I don't mean stay forever. I just mean stay the night. Leave when you need to. Come back whenever you please."

He tugs on San's wrist again and this time, the god follows, carefully lying down in the hollow with Hongjoong, ducking his head to avoid catching his antlers. They have to curl together to fit, but it's warm and dry, and when the willow tree shifts its roots back to cover them, it leaves enough gaps for the moonlight to stream in and leave patterns of their faces. Hongjoong cautiously traces his finger over a silvery line cast on San's cheek, then moves up to stroke his tangled hair, his breath catching as San's eyes flutter closed and he leans into the touch. Hongjoong feels like he has a thunderstorm in the palm of his hands. He thinks about what the god had said.

"Are you lonely?" he whispers.

San's eyes open immediately, alarmed, and Hongjoong regrets having spoken. But then San relaxes, nudging Hongjoong's hand with his temple. Hongjoong resumes petting. San heaves a grumbling sigh, his infinite eyes closing once more. 

"I'm not lonely now," he murmurs, and it sounds like a decision. Hongjoong doesn't speak again, letting the steady, warm beat of the forest's heart lull him off to sleep. 

When he wakes, it is late in the morning and San is gone. But when Hongjoong shifts from his curled up position, groaning at the ache, he catches sight of a little pile of things set where San had been sleeping. There is a little store of arnica and willow bark, gathered around the promised gold earrings, which makes him snort. Next to the earrings, though, there is a strange little pendant made from roughly cut wood, bound together with woven dry grass and and decorated with tiny white pebbles from the river. When he picks it up, it hums a melody to him, both a message and a promise. 

_Mine_. 

It's exciting and terrifying and he has no idea what any of this means, but Hongjoong slips the string over his head with a smile. He may be overwhelmed and too quickly infatuated, but when has he ever shied away from chasing the unknown? 

For now, though, he's still warm and sleepy and there doesn't seem much point in getting up until the afternoon. He swallows an arnica flower and settles back in to the sand, one hand curled protectively around his new treasure. 

In his dream, there is an immense figure towering over the forest, a great skeleton held together by roots and branches in the place of ligament and tissue. It has the skull of a great buck, its antlers honed to sharp points, and its eyes are dark pits of nothingness in the hollow contours of its face. The thing shakes the earth as it walks, the denizens of the forest trembling and scattering as the mountains themselves bow to its will. 

In his dream, Hongjoong's heart soars as he rides atop the giant's shoulders and laughs. 

**Author's Note:**

> A/N regarding consent (CONTAINS SPOILER)  
> Hongjoong is into everything that happens, but he is also under San's reign and scared witless, and San doesn't exactly stop to check. The consent is there, but it's definitely not enthusiastic to start with, so I just wanted to warn anyone who is sensitive to that!


End file.
